


Puppets

by Amand_r



Category: Torchwood
Genre: F/M, Kink Meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-07
Updated: 2011-04-07
Packaged: 2017-10-17 17:36:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/179398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amand_r/pseuds/Amand_r
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He'd chosen the pub because of the fact that the toilets had locking doors, and when she followed him in, he thought about the whole thing he was about to do, and whether or not he was being smart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Puppets

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the kink meme prompt: "Rhys/Gwen; what were they using the text-contacts for?"

Rhys sipped his drink and looked out over the bar. The pickings were slim, but not bad. Rather like going to the grocers and finding they only had three different kinds of veg, but it was all really good veg that you liked. Left table was a redhead with huge tits blossoming from her sweater, nipples at attention. Back table reading a book was a brunette with a pair of legs and a set of what he and Daffyd called DSL--Dick Sucking Lips (Kind of thing you said to your mates and kept to yourself at home, that.).

And then there was the one close enough to him that he could smell her CK One and wondered if anyone actually worse CK One anymore. Guess so.

His wedding band burned in his pocket, but he couldn't very well wear it for this.

The girl next to him was fit, and blonde and giving him the eye. He liked the fall of her hair and the way her lipstick matched her blouse: red and red, like Gwen's favorite top. Jesus, Gwen's favorite top made him hard just thinking about it.

THAT ONE. WITH THE EYES_

Rhys blinked and stared at his fingers as he tapped them twice on the counter.

Chatting her up was fairly easy, actually. She was in a very good mood, and she wanted to run her hands through his hair and get him to sing some for her in his Northern accent. It was the accent-drove the ladies wild. His own was typing messages right to his skull.

SHE'S GORGEOUS. MAKES ME THINK OF TIT FUCKING_

"Do you want to get out of here?" he asked the blonde, and she hopped off the stool in the overeager dance of, 'I'm about to get lucky' that he usually saw right before he and Gwen found a quiet nook somewhere to do a private lapdance in the middle of the day.

He'd chosen the pub because of the fact that the toilets had locking doors, and when she followed him in, he thought about the whole thing he was about to do, and whether or not he was being smart. Rhys looked in the mirror over the sink as he locked the door, and the blonde giggled and turned him a little bit to kiss his mouth. She tasted like Brains and crisps and that was okay. He could feel himself getting hard, especially when he blinked in the mirror and was rewarded with,

RIGHT NOW I'M FINGERING MYSELF. TWO FINGERS. I USED THAT GEL_

Ooooooh, the itching gel they'd discovered by accident.

OPEN HER BLOUSE_

The buttons were tiny-were they even meant to open? But they gave and he could kiss his way down her neck, his hands working up under the underwire of her bra. Her fingers prized the button of his jeans and she laughed again, something throaty and full of promise, something he didn't care to listen to because he was trying to imagine what Gwen's voice would sound like when she said

OPEN YOUR EYES_

He did, and let his eyes roam her face, her blue eyes, and the pulse thumping in her neck. His cock was hard when she grabbed it, long nails brushing the skin of his belly, her mouth on his neck. He tugged at her skirt and then her pants.

LOOK DOWN_

The knickers were red and lacy—she'd expected a shag tonight. Well, he figured as he blinked repeatedly, trying to get his conspirator to prompt him as he lifted her onto the edge of the sink, she was going to get one.

CONDOM_ appeared a second before her fingers appeared with the foil package winking in the dim light, WATCH HER DO IT_ tilted his head down to take in her gleaming nails and her long fingers rolling it over his cock.

The prompts in front of his eyes became her face, then, when he entered her—wet, physically wet, not cyber wet—when he felt the warmness of her, and then YOU'RE HUGE_ and HARDER_ and LOOK AT HER FACE_ so that she could see the eyes fluttering closed when he thrust into her, her backside rolling back on the sink edge when he forced himself, and her hands pressed into the small of his back, his shoulder, digging, pressing, plastering themselves to him like Gwen was plastered to his eyes.

IS SHE MOANING_ One blink for yes.

I'M SO CLOSE_

He closed his eyes and thought of the way she writhed under him on the bed, or in his lap, little hip swivels and tight cunt. That red top, her breasts in her bra, the push-up one that made her tits fairly fall out, the way they rose and fell with every shift of her body, every breath.

LOOK DOWN_ revealed his cock working in and out, rubber curl of the coloured condom pressed into his hair, gleam of her wetness glossing the red even redder, like candy shine. Her gasps are came faster and more frequent, something that he couldn't transmit, even though he tried to blink it when he looked in the mirror over her shoulder, at her arse as it rocked back and forth with his thrusts.

MAKE ME COME_

He closed his eyes and kissed her ear. She smelled like perfume and AquaNet. One of his hands slipped down to finger her clit, just for good measure, and her legs wrapped around this hips, pulling, so they were pressed together and just ground out the last few thrusts, in the blackness of his vision just the blueness of Gwen's words SO GOOD_ and XVKF;LKVFVN_

That was his girl.

They sat there for a moment she groaned into his shoulder. "You're a catch," she murmured. "I'm married. Sorry."

He thought about telling her, but it didn't work both ways. Instead he just looked at the mirror and wiggled his bare ring finger.

:DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD_

"Thought you hated the smilies," Rhys murmured to himself as he pulled out and began to tuck himself back into his trousers.

The girl--'Tracey, I'm Tracey.' He remembered--smiled lazily and pulled some wipes from her purse, holding one out to him. "I love smilies," she told him.

Rhys took the wipe and jammed it down his trousers, then tossed it in the bin. Moments later he was unlocking the toilet door and gesturing her out.

COME HOME_

Rhys paused and looked in the mirror of the toilet one last time, at his face, red with exertion, flushed with post-shagging bliss. He mouthed the words to his image and paused, just in case she hadn't caught it.

I LOVE YOU TOO.

END


End file.
